


Fated

by LaFayVerte



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arya's tarot card is the moon, Ebon is still an awesome word, F/M, Kinda, POV Arya Stark, POV Sansa Stark, Spooktober, each chapter with a POV, jonrya
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-02 06:00:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16299497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaFayVerte/pseuds/LaFayVerte
Summary: Witches, fortune tellers, sisters and queens.





	1. The Woodswitch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyBee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBee/gifts).



> Happy Spooktober eveyone! This takes place sometime before cannon =D

‘I can’t believe you dragged me into this’ Sansa holds back a curse as she feels something tug at her skirts ‘I’ll end up coming home with mud all over me like some kind of a beastling’

‘Go home then’ Arya slips between the branches with infuriating ease, her feet not stumbling on the hundreds of things cluttering the ground even once ‘and keep your voice down’

‘No!’ the young lady hisses at her sister, fed up and about two seconds away from actually tugging her sister by her dirty, shaggy mane and dragging her back home ‘I’ll _not_ be held responsible for letting you sneak away at night without a guard.’

Sansa tried to call for someone when she felt Arya slipping away from their room, but somehow her little sister had made sure to sneak around at a time when there were very few guards roaming the hallways. Not to mention that the moment Sansa moved, Arya had bolted like a startled deer with such quickness that she barely had time to don one of her dresses before darting after her.

At least she managed to tie the laces once she caught up with the half-wildling.

‘I don’t need a guard’ Arya stops in her tracks, swiveling around and pinning her with a look ‘the Wolfswood doesn’t have any bandits, and if it did they wouldn’t be around Winterfell’

‘What about wild animals, hmmm?’ Sansa puts her hands on her hips, more than ready to meet the challenge ‘just because we say we have a direwolf on our banner doesn’t mean we’re actual wolves Arya. Don’t you ever think things through?’

‘There’s too many hunters around here for any beasts of prey’ the little girl’s tone rises into a truly ear grinding pitch ‘Oh Sansa, don’t you ever hear what father’s men tell him at dinner?’

Sansa breathes a long, deep, heaving sigh.

‘I’m a lady of Winterfell, it isn’t proper for me to mingle with everyone who passes by’ a thought suddenly pops into her head ‘Why isn’t Jon here?’

‘Why would Jon be here?’ Arya starts walking again, her voice suddenly muffled ‘he doesn’t _have_ to go everywhere I go, we’re not nailed to each other…’

 _Ah…_ interesting.

‘Where is he now?’ Sansa stares at her sister’s back, tight as a strung bow, as she starts after her.

‘Probably with Robb and Theon at some brothel’ Arya shrugs, ignoring Sansa’s gasp ‘it’s what I heard anyway.’

‘Let me make sure I understand this clearly’ She masks her shock, the way her _younger_ sister spoke about such places so casually making her feel babyish ‘you’re going into the woods alone in the middle of the night, to find a woodswitch, because our half-brother is off with other boys his own age instead of wasting his time with you?’

It seems that no matter how much mother tries to explain things to Arya, she’d never understand how the world works ‘you really are a silly little girl, aren’t you?’

‘No one is forcing you to come’ With perhaps too much force, Arya marks another tree on their path with her...kitchen knife? Did she steal a kitchen knife? ‘You’re the one stupid enough to follow me on my _silly little girl_ frolic’

‘If I don’t then you’d be alone and …’ Sansa tries to keep her voice even, aware that berating her sister now wouldn’t help. She’d have to wait until they get back to the keep before due discipline can be handed out.

‘Unguarded?’ Arya cuts her off, infuriating uncredulesnuss lacing her tone as she spreads her arms wide open ‘by all means brandish your sword and slay _all_ these evil enemies!’

A fog of irritation clouds her mind as her sister turns around and continues her trek, and It takes all of Sansa’s composure for her to do nothing but to take a deep breath before following suit. It was all a mistake. Following Arya was a mistake. And she won’t help again the next time the little terror sneaks out, in fact she hopes that a wolf or a giant snake would come and take her the next time she tries to run away.

 _Maybe she should learn her lesson the hard way._ Sansa stashes the dark thought away, slightly ashamed of letting her anger get the best of her.

‘There!’ Lost in her own thoughts, she bumps into Arya when the latter suddenly halts. Not that the younger girl noticed anyway, pointing all too excitedly to a rundown shack ‘that has to be the place’

Sansa would disagree, she knows that she shouldn’t be encouraging her sister into believing in these superstitions. Especially when it meant that they would be going to strange shacks in the middle of the woods. But somehow this place seemed… special.

It wasn’t just the soft lights pouring out of the windows and the cracks in the wood, nor was it the strange trinkets hanging on the outside walls. There was something unsettling in the air around the place, like the wind had suddenly stopped flowing around them and decided to settle down with a hum.

With a satisfied nod, Arya ignores Sansa’s hand on her shoulder trying to keep her in place as she marches to the door and gives it a hearty knock.

She feels her heart stop as the door opened.

 _Well at least the witch isn’t pretending to be a nice lady._ If anything the woman that answered the door seemed to be determined to let everyone know that she was the biggest hag that ever graced the world. The witch was almost as tall as father, with small beady eyes and almost grayish skin, her sparse hair fell around her face like a bunch of shaggy grey rags. Sansa almost recoiled in disgust.

She was like an enormous rat towering over her tiny sister.

Said sister doesn’t seem to notice though, because the first thing Arya does is to introduce them like they were all old friends who haven’t met in a long time.

‘I’m Arya, and this is my sister Sansa’ the girl takes off the makeshift satchel around her shoulders before offering it to the old crone ‘we got this for you. It has some food and water.’

The woman cocks a bushy eyebrow at them, making her sister bites her lip ‘I just thought that you’d have trouble finding some fruit and fresh water all the way out here, so I brought you some.’

‘Aren’t you a kind one?’ The witch lets out a laugh, a shrill distasteful thing that sounds as pleasant as a rusty nail scraping over glass ‘come in little lass, you can bring your sister’

Arya beams at the invitation and scrambles into the house as if she isn’t being invited into something out of an Old Nan story gone wrong.

Sansa, apparently being the only _normal_ person around refuses to go into the creepy hut where no one can hear her scream thank you very much. She almost stays outside, intent on contemplating all the ways she would kill her sister later if the old hag doesn’t do her in first. But then… well… staying out alone in a dark forest isn’t exactly the most relaxing experience one can have either, not with the sounds of the trees rustling in rhythm with her jittering bones and other strange noises that Sansa is _assuming_ are coming from critters. (She isn’t an expert really but don’t critters sleep at night?)

She hears a twig snap and her heart almost jumps out of her chest. Sansa dashes inside, at least the shack has a small chance of being safe.

She is going to _enjoy_ watching mother give Arya some justice for this.

The inside of the witch’s hut is bigger than it looks by the outside, it was still a wreck by all means. With dust covering most of its already cluttered surfaces and the random parchments thrown around here and there, not to mention the nauseating _dirty cat_ smell permeating the air. Curiously enough Sansa can’t see any cats, just random cobweb in most corners of the room.

‘I told you she’d join us’ the woodwitch nods her head towards Sansa ‘come’ere child, let me look at you proper.’

Sansa doesn’t move.

‘Hm? Scared are you?’ the woman gives her an unapologetic smirk ‘Not even when I promised your sister that I’d tell you two your fortune? Each one of you gets three questions.’ the smirk turns into a knowing grin ‘don’t you want to know your future, li’le lady?’

She already knows her future, Sansa would find the one for her, hold his hand and never let go. He will make her happier than she ever thought she could be and together they will make a family somewhere warm, with lovely gardens where little children can play and vibrant sunsets to watch everyday. But the prospect of actually knowing who it is...

Her father is good friends with the king after all and as far as she knows neither she nor the prince are spoken for, the possibility of her actually becoming queen is not something so out of reach.

She stands next to Arya, and they hold their hand out when the woman ask them too.

Instead of reading their palm, the old hag pulls out a small knife. Making a quick cut on their open palms and lowering her face to lick the blood off of them before either of them could react.

_Gods! she’s revolting._

‘So cold...’ The witch shivers ‘Direwolves prowl my house...Ladies of Stark…’

A quiver runs through Sansa’s muscles, belly and all.

‘That’s all you could tell? That we’re Starks?’ Arya’s disbelieving voice cuts through her cloud of dread instantly ‘We’re in the woods that belong to Winterfell’ She points to Sansa ‘And she’s dressed like a proper lady..’

‘Such authority you speak with little wolf!’ the woman tuts at her ‘all for the best I suppose, considering what is to come. _Little sister_.’

‘And what’s that?’ Sansa feels breathless, feeling both stifled and intrigued by everything surrounding this strange woman. She might be an ugly, scary old smallfolk, but if there is any truth to her words. Then Arya having any right to speak like that could only mean that she becomes someone important. And since she isn’t getting any good matches with her looks and manners then perhaps her importance will come through someone else...

_Little sister._

‘A queen is among us! Fair and noble!’ her heart does a little happy flip in her chest at this small prophecy ‘A queen of Stark, long will be her reign.’

‘Are you certain?’ She holds the woman’s rough hands, near delirious with sudden joy.

‘The blood doesn’t lie, m’lady’ there is a wicked glint in the witch’s eyes that Sansa brushes off.

‘What about me?’ Arya interrupts, shifting in her place and biting her lip ‘Do I get a sword? Can I learn to use it? Does _anything_ ever change for me?’

‘You get a needle’ the woman croons at Arya, and Sansa can almost kiss her for the way reality finally seems to dawn on her sister’s features ‘and you’ll be needing it too, there’ll be plenty of sewing in your future. Far more than your sister, that’s for sure.’

Sansa stifles a wince at that, feeling a pang of pity for her sister. Only high ladies with their own families could afford not to sew, as far as she know ladies without a richer and bigger hold didn’t have such a luxury most of the time.

Old spinsters usually do it to pass the time too.

Arya’s face breaks for an instant before she quickly gathers herself, blinking quickly before moisture has a chance to form. She feels truly bad for her sister, but she knows that it had to be done, and if her younger sister wouldn’t accept realistic advice from her and mother then maybe the woodswitch was needed after all.

‘Dragons are such funny creatures, are they not? They have such violent tempers at times and they love their sisters _so scandalously._ Is there a rule or law that they wouldn’t break for them?’ the woman nods at herself sagely as she mutters her nonsense.

Sansa resists the urge to roll her eyes.

‘Why are you upset, little wolf?’ the witch brings a hand to Arya’s chin and lifts it, something in her sister’s eyes made the woman’s gaze soften ever so slightly ‘Alright then, since _you_ were the one who brought me some nice clean water all the way up here, I’m going to show you everything I know. But is this really what you want?’

‘You’ve already told me the worst of it’ the youngest Stark assaults her lower lip, before taking a deep breath and nodding ‘tell me the rest.’

‘Everything?’ the eldest can feel her eyes widening like saucers ‘her entire future?’

‘Only the things I can see from it’ the hag turned her head to look at her, her gaze piercing her soul ‘but only your sister, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait outside, m’lady.’

Sansa closes her eyes to blink.

She opens them to find herself in front of the door to the hut. For a moment everything is deathly quiet, until the light pouring from the windows suddenly starts to flicker.

She glues herself to the door, crouching down and pushing her ear against the keyhole in attempt to catch a string of conversation.

‘Why do you...’ she can hear Arya’s voice ‘...worried’

‘...remember anyway...’ the witch sounds much more grave than she did two minutes ago ‘... the future is not to be ...’

‘Is it....doing?’ Sansa can’t make out the exact words, the increasing crescendo of Arya’s voice suddenly filling her with dread ‘Wait! No!’

A shriek of terror bellows from inside the shack, and Sansa can hear her sister’s cries of _stop_ and _please_ from inside. Panic ignites inside her chest as she brings her fists to the door, banging on it and calling for her sister. It was irresponsible of her, letting Arya go inside a stranger’s house was stupid of her, and throwing all caution to the wind was especially foolish. She’s the eldest, the wisest, the one who knows how the world truly works.

She should have known better.

After what seemed like an eternity of screaming her voice raw and trying to get the damned doorknob to work, the door _mercifully_ springs open as Arya darts out of it, her face somehow looking green and violet and white at the same time. Her sister grabs her hand in an iron grip and _sprints_ away, dragging Sansa behind her with a shocking strength.

Arya follows the trees she marked on their way back, and Sansa wants to bid her to stop. She wants to make her understand that nothing is chasing them, to calm her down and hear what happened but…

She isn’t sure if Arya would listen, that’s just not her sister. The youngest Stark daughter was never the type to show her pain to anyone in the world, she sooner jump off a tower than let others see her cry. Probably not the best thing in the world if you’re not a man, considering how much she’s probably holding in.

The moment they make it out of the forest a familiar voice reaches them ‘Arya!’

‘Jon!’ Arya lets go of her, running towards the open arms of their half-brother and jumping for him to catch her. Sansa feels something ugly in her chest at the way _her_ sister clings to him like a monkey on a tree branch, wrapping her legs around his waist and burying her head into the crook of his neck as he liberally places kisses all over her cheeks and forehead.

 _Sisters_ were supposed to be thick as thieves, she hears.

Well… to each their own type of company, she supposes.

‘Are the two of you hurt?’ Grey eyes survey her for any harm, and Sansa doesn’t miss how his free hand is gently stroking Arya’s head.

‘No, we just had a bad scare’ Sansa shakes her head politely.

‘Why did you go see that woodswitch now?’ Jon chides, well more like hums, at Arya ‘I told you that we’d go by day together if you really wanted to.’

‘Why aren’t you with Robb and Theon?’ Arya’s voice comes out suspiciously watery, but Jon Snow doesn’t seem to be half as shocked by this as Sansa.

‘I didn’t want to be with Robb and Theon’ he simply replies in a tone that lets on that there’s more to this to discuss later, after she’s gone ‘I got you some berry tarts from the inn‘

‘Jon…’ is all Arya manages before her voice breaks into a little whimper, and she hugs him even tighter.

Worry creeps over his face as he looks questioningly at Sansa, she shakes her head at him again, having no idea what the woman actually did to her sister.

‘We should go to our chamber for some rest’ she suggests, feeling like a warm fire and a blanket would do wonders for the two of them ‘it wouldn’t do to get caught out of bed so late’

Arya shakes her head violently against their half brother’s shoulder, and her whimpers turn into some honestly alarming sobs.

_What did she show you?_

‘I’ll take her back before sunrise’ Jon shoots what’s supposed to be a small smile, although the effect is ruined with the concern coloring his features ‘do you need me to escort you back?’

‘No, I’ll be fine’ she knows the clear way back from when she followed Arya out, and it wouldn’t work for so many people to sneak at once anyway. Sansa glances at her sister’s trembling form ‘ Arya… I won’t tell mother if you’re worried about it.’

She nods at her half brother before turning away and taking her leave, feeling suddenly as if she’s overstayed her welcome. It’s not _fair_ , that Sansa can’t fix this while Jon Snow can. It’s not _fair_ that Arya doesn’t act like every girl does, maybe then they would have been closer, close enough that it would have _her_ out there. Or perhaps even close enough that Sansa could have talked her out of this whole stupidity before it even began.

In the end it doesn’t matter, a lady mustn’t get too attached to her father’s house anyway. Sansa still has her friends and one day she will have her own family.

Her own _royal_ family.

_At least one good thing came out of tonight._

As she smiles to herself and walks away, Sansa can barely hear the two of them speak, their voices drowned out by the wind.

‘Don’t let go..’

‘Never, little sister.’

 


	2. The Fortune Teller

The maids giggle as they walk along the purple harbor, their skirts rustling and their jewels glittering like rippling water in the sunlight. With every step they take, more sailors flock around them while simultaneously parting to make way. Equally enchanted and intimidated by the unreachable beauties gliding along the pier.

 _Sansa would have swooned over this._ Lya shakes her head in amusement, a trickle of fondness for the other girls snaking its way into her chest.

It might explain why she agreed to come along with the other apprentices on their little adventure when she knew _full well_ that the Black Pearl would probably hang her by the thumbs for this, while forcing her to sing YiTian poetry as she lectures her about the courtesans’ mystique. She had _hoped_ that they would at least be a tad discreet.

Oh well…

She might as well enjoy it while she can.

A wistful sigh escapes her as she allows a smile to stretch her lips, letting her friends drag towards the docked ship with the green sails. Only stopping when a slip of a girl bolts out from between the crowd, bumping into them before scurrying away.

Next to her Daria screams, and a stocky sailor grabs the girl before she could escape. Dragging her by the collar of her dirty tunic, the child is roughly thrown in front of their group. No doubt scrapping her poor knees in the process.

‘Are you blind, girl?’ Daria wrinkles her nose at the little one ‘how dare you get those dirty hands on our clothes?’

 _All of her is dirty._ Lya’s eyes rake over the girl, who couldn’t have been more than ten years old, with matted blonde hair and terrified brown eyes. _She is dirty, and little, and skinny._ probably starving and underfed, racing along the streets hoping to catch a pigeon or some coins. Lya wonders if the girl’s parents were making her beg and steal for them, or if they were good people who died before their girl could grow up.

Tears prick the corner of her eyes.

‘She did it on purpose, the little thief!’ the sailor growls at the little girl who curls into a ball on the ground ‘Hand over what you took, cur.’

The sailor raises a brawny arm to strike, and before thinking, before she even _considers_ slowing down to to think. Lya’s feet work on their own as she stands between the girl and her would-be assailant.

‘Enough.’ Lya commands in a voice she hasn’t used in a long, _long_ time as she holds the man’s angry blue gaze.

‘Lya?’ She curses inwardly at the confusion in Daria’s voice, hoping against hope that this misstep wasn’t going to cost her more than a punishment from the Black Pearl. In front of her the sailor retreats, muttering about only wanting help.

 _Fear cuts deeper than swords._ Swallowing her panic, Lya slowly turns around to face her friend, an innocent smile making its way across her face ‘You know I can’t _stand_ the sight of blood!’ the ugly knot in her chest loosens at the understanding dawning on Daria’s features ‘Go ahead to the fortune teller, I’ll be right behind you after I catch my breath.’

‘Don’t be late, alright?’ Daria pats her reassuringly on the shoulder before making her way to the fortune teller with the other girls.

Lya grabs the girl by the arm before she could scramble away, rounding on her the moment her friends disappear between the crowd, she crouches in front of her, assessing the little one with her eyes.

‘Hand over the bracelet’ she held out one hand to the girl, not letting go with her other one ‘or I’ll be taking it myself’

Eyeing her back with worry, the girl hesitantly reaches into her tunic and pulls out a silver bracelet with tiny seashells engraved on it. Lya would have to sneak this back onto Daria’s wrist the moment she sees her again.

Only one thing left to do before that.

‘What’s your name?’ She allows her voice to soften ‘I’m Lya’

‘Serra...’ the girls shifts in her grip, uncomfortable with the conversation. There wasn’t a shred of doubt in Lya’s heart that this was not her real name, after all the only thing worse than strangers who don’t give a shit is often the ones who do.

‘Well Serra, this is for the bracelet…’ Reaching for her belt of spun gold, the apprentice unties her coin purse and places it on the beggar girl’s palm ‘Take care of yourself, and don’t go around stealing anymore.’

Without waiting for an answer Lya lets go and makes her way to her friends, thankful that she won’t make it in time to see the fortune teller with the others. _At least I won’t have to explain where all my gold went._

 _‘_ Wait!’ The girl’s voice reaches her ear as a small hand grabs her own to halt her ‘I...I have something for you!’

‘Oh really’ Cocking one eyebrow at the little one, an amused smile graces the older girl’s lips ‘what would that be?’

 _Serra_ reaches again into her tunic and pulls out a... playing card?

Lya takes it from the girl and studies it, it wasn’t like any card she’d seen before. On one side it had an intricate design of intertwining shapes and figures, like the vines of a tree closing in on themselves. She turns the card around, and a gasp escapes her lungs as the card almost slips from her hand…

Wolves.

On the front of the card two wolves stood on opposite sides howling at a frowning moon, a path separating them leading to two _all familiar_ towers looming in the distance. Underneath the wolves there was water with a crawfish crawling out of it.

‘What’s that?’ her voice came out hoarse, too hoarse for a pretty little courtesan.

‘The fortune teller told me that it’s an invitation to see her any time, she just gave it to me before I ran into you’ Serra shuffles nervously in her place ‘I’m sorry I stole from your friend’

Lya nods at the girl numbly before shooting her a friendly smile, her stomach suddenly lurching at the idea of seeing some _witch._ She could not tell why.

Turning around and clutching the thick paper in her hand, Lya walks back to her friends. A sudden ringing in her ear drowning out the noises from the harbor, the ringing kept rising, morphing into a shrill laughter from a long time ago. But when…?

When she finally makes it, Daria takes one look at her before rushing to her side ‘Lya what happened?’

‘Two sailors got into a fight on my way here’ the lie glides off of her tongue on its own as the card crinkles in her hand ‘There was a lot of blood’

‘We should find a place to sit down Daria’s sweet voice grounds her a bit, away from the strange sense of dread that’s building up inside her ‘You would not believe how expensive that fortune teller was!’

‘What’s that you’re holding?’ Elegant fingers delicately pry the wrinkled card from her stony grip ‘It looks like one of the cards from inside, it has a wolf on it and a...hound I think?’

‘It’s an invitation to see the fortune teller’ She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, determined to conquer this sudden fear that stupidly came from nowhere ‘I’m going inside.’

 _Calm as still water._ Lya plucks the card from her friend’s hand before strolling onto the ship and into the fortune teller’s cabin, her steps light but resolute. She finds the woman waiting for her by the doorway, her arms reaching out and inviting her inside into the cozy space inside.

The inside of the cabin is small, but very pretty. The smell of incense wafts into her nose as a sudden warmth sneaks around her, the center of the room is graced by a round table clothed with purple velvet and a throng of little trinkets lying on it. With a saunter to her steps, the fortune teller sits on one of the cushiony chairs surrounding the table before beckoning her to do the same.

As serenely as she can, Lya brings herself to follow through with it, her eyes never leaving the beautiful woman sitting before her. With her honey brown hair framing her round, freckled face. And her bright hazel eyes boring into her own with a cocky glint in them.

‘Welcome little wolf’ the fortune teller smiles ‘I’ve been waiting for you all week.’

‘You have?’ Her heart stills at the nickname, before hammering in her chest with all its might.

‘Oh yes indeed’ the woman leans forward ‘It’s not everyday that you meet a queen you know’

 _A what now?_ The drumming inside her head ceases at the new revelation as relief floods through her, finally certain that the fortune teller is nothing but a lucky crook. Lya feels stupid for being so shaken.

‘Alright’ Lya giggles at the strange woman in front of her ‘read my fortune then!’

‘Very well’ The young woman reaches for a small glass ball from the table, staring deeply into it ‘ask away, little wolf’

‘Well then…’ Lya sits back, twirling a strand of dark hair around her finger as she thinks of a good question. _A courtesan’s question._ ‘Do you think lords will beggar themselves for my maidenhead?’

‘They would probably wish it came to that’ the fortune teller’s eyes seem to glaze over ‘Had they survived this far’

‘Oh, the contenders vying for my maidenhead are already dead?’ Lya can’t quell the chuckle this time ‘That’s hardly exciting isn’t it?’

‘High lords, wildlings, princes and bastards died for your maiden’s blood, little wolf.’ her voice seems detached, lost in some far away thought ‘ A dragon descended upon them and tore them apart for their presumption’

 _Oh? A secret Targaryen is going to steal me from here any time now? Or is the dragon queen burning others in my name?_ She would laugh in the woman’s face, but it would be indecent.

Not that the fortune teller would have noticed anyway, far too gone into her act as she is.

‘The victor _will_ have you little wolf, the one who chases your shadow instead of leaving you to escape it.’ the crook turns the ball in her hands, examining every piece of it ‘I want my bride back. I want my bride back. I want my bride back.’

 _Bride?_ She was hardly bride material, while it’s true that she was no longer too young at seven and ten. Lya was still a courtesan to be, and a courtesan’s life never included marriage.

‘I’m a courtesan’ she feels compelled to point that out, letting the woman know that her act veered off the intended mark ‘I shall never marry.’

‘Stop hiding, little wolf!’ the fortune teller’s brows furrow ‘I can’t see much with all these masks, everything is concealed deep underwater.’

‘I’m right here’ She daintily stands up ‘What do you need me to do?’

‘No no it’s no use’ the woman huffs in frustration ‘all I see is a needle’

Lya finds herself sitting back down on her own accord, her knees not quite supporting her weight as her previous fear comes back with an overwhelming intensity.

‘Ah! There we go…’ a victorious smile makes its way across _the crook’s_ comely face ‘Needle is a… sword? And… Gods!’

The glass ball in the fortune teller’s hands almost shatters against the wooden floor as the woman’s head snaps towards Lya like a startled deer.

‘My name is Amyra’ the sudden panic in her eyes lets Lya know that there’s no point in pretending to be Lya any longer ‘please remember it and never forget it, little wolf.’

Her mind comes to a screeching halt.

Oh damn.

Oh shit.

_Oh fuck!_

She’s fucked. If she kills the woman, then she will fail the task. If the woman exposes her, then she will fail as well. Arya’s quite sure that she has the honor of being the first faceless man to be outed by a _fucking fortune teller…_

_Calm as still water._

‘Why do you look so scared?’ Lya bats her eyelashes innocently before whispering ‘Are there spirits in the room _now_?’

‘My name is Amyra’ the witch repeats ‘I’ll tell whatever you ask for as long as you keep away and remember my name’

Arya feels as if an animal is mauling her stomach from the inside. Will the kindly man kick her out onto the street? Or is she as good as dead now? Where will she go? The House of Black and White has been her home for the past five years, and truth be told she has a very specific skill set. Could she even do anything except lying, cheating and killing at this point. _Of course I can… I’m sure I can..._

Is the room getting darker or is it just her?

‘What are you talking about?’ Lya gently stands up, mindful of her wobbling legs, and puts a petulant hand to her hips ‘I’m glad I didn’t pay a single coin for this stupid act.’

‘No...it can’t be you can it?’ Understanding dawns on the woman before she takes another look at the glass ball ‘you are a courtesan in training?’

‘Just so’ Arya struggles to rule her face, a spark of hope igniting in her chest ‘what is the meaning of this?’

‘Oh my dear I’m so sorry’ the fortune teller breathes in relief ‘one of your friends is not your friend at all’

‘How so?’ Lya’s eyes widen almost comically as Arya thanks every God that ever existed that the woman’s not an idiot ‘I’m the apprentice of the Black Pearl herself, why wouldn’t they be friends with me?’

‘One of them hired a faceless man to kill you’ the witch ignores Lya’s horrified gasp ‘a little wolf stalks you child’

‘Oh _Amyra_!’ Arya studies the woman up close as Lya starts to shake with fear ‘whatever shall I do?’

‘Perhaps if I tell you more about them then you would be safer’ Amyra eases at the sound of her name leaving Lya’s lips ‘then you would know what to look for’

‘Oh will you please do so?’ Lya holds out her hand, pleading with the fortune teller for an inkling of knowledge ‘tell me about the assassin’

‘Tell me about their family if you can’

Amyra nods before looking back into her glass ball, her eyes glazing over once more.

‘I see the little wolf’s sister, in a mountain far away to the west. Dressed in blue and silver. Red hair flowing in the wind. A falcon and a mockingbird covering her with their wings’

Lies. _Aunt Lysa is dead_.

‘I see a crippled wolf with wings, roosting between the roots of a white tree. A half-giant and a lizard lion surrounding him as he discovers secrets untold.’

Lies. _Bran is dead_.

‘I see a the little wolf’s littlest brother, half man and half beast. Chasing wild unicorns and learning the way of the stoneborn’

Lies. _Baby Rickon is dead._

 _‘_ I see the wolf’s cousin, her aunt's son…a white wolf. His fate is clearer than most, the little wolf must treasure him dearly’

_What?_

‘I see him lying face first in the snow, his blood freezing upon it. His body full of holes. _Stick’em with the pointy end._ ’

Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies.. Lies. Lies. Lies.

‘Liar!’ Arya’s voice is unnecessarily loud and full of tears, considering everything that the woman said were lies. Lies. Lies.

‘Liar’ she wills the stupid witch to take her words back.

‘Tis not the end for him, there is more’

Suddenly she remembers Robb’s body with Greywind’s head sewn upon it. _Oh Gods no._

‘There is no Snow anymore, only fire’ the woman’s body starts to swing in place ‘only Fire and Blood, and the Ghost of a wolf beside him.’

 _Truth_. They burn the bodies at the Wall.

 _My brother Jon is dead_. The thought sinks into her bones, weighing her down in a way that she had not experienced since she was a little girl watching her father’s head roll away from his body.

 _Jon Snow is dead_. The tears trickle down her face on their own accord, as her mind tries to process through the sudden fog clouding it. Distancing it away from the thought that she has to confront.

Her last sliver of hope, her harbor of calm amidst the storm, her Needle hidden between the stones, away from the faceless men, away from nobles and knights, away from anything and from anyone else’s reach.

Gone.

‘What do I do?’ She whispers to no one in particular, or maybe it was to herself, or to the cruel Gods.

The witch puts the sphere down before picking up a black hand mirror, holding it up for Lya to take.

‘What was it that your cousin said…?’

‘Brother!’ Arya nearly growls at the woman, before snatching opaque the mirror and holding it up to her face ‘half-brother is _still_ brother!’

The moment she looks at it, her words die on her tongue. In hindsight, it will seem ironic that the first time that she sees her own face in five years would be in a mirror that isn’t supposed to reflect anything.

‘My, my...’ the witch peers at her reflection from behind ‘you are a _beauty_ little wolf!’

Truth be told, she doesn't truly recognize who it is when she first sees the image staring back at her. The woman in the mirror is one of surpassing loveliness, with fair skin and shapely dark eyes. She has a long noble face with rich brown hair flowing past it, a straight nose and pink lips. Like an ancient sculpture in the sea lord’s palace or one of the paintings hanging in the Black Pearl’s barge.

Perhaps not the typical idea of a comely woman, but no one in their right mind would call her anything less than beautiful.

Then she realizes that this is supposed to be her and the sadness comes crashing down anew. Her father had always said that she would grow into her looks, he was the only one who called her pretty. Him and Jon Snow.

A choked sob escapes her. _Is that what you're supposed to look like too, brother?_

‘I believe he said that the longer you hide, the sterner the penance?’ the witch leans down, almost whispering in her ear ‘what will you do now?’

He was right. _Oh_ he was right…

A true faceless man would brush this off and get back to business, maybe even kill the witch before she could expose their identity. And Arya tried _so hard_ to be one of them, she had given up on her name, her family, her meager possessions and her list.

But this… not this. The Many-Faced God cannot take this away from her.

’No more hiding’ Arya stands up, turning around to face the fortune teller ‘I’ll find the ones who did this to my brother and I’ll kill them all’

One by one she will hunt them down. And when she catches them she will poke them full of holes just as they did to him.

‘Cousin, little wolf.’ The witch insists, an almost hungry smile illuminating her face ‘who are you child?’

‘I’m Arya Stark of Winterfell’ she lets the forbidden words dance past her lips.

‘Just so’ the fortune teller nods at her

Arya nods back before taking a deep breath, steeling herself for the battle to come. She reaches the doorway before pausing to turn around one last time ‘Brother’ she tries once more ‘Jon Snow is… _was_ my brother.’

‘So he was’ the witch settles down into her chair ‘but he is not Jon Snow, he is your cousin Aegon of House Targaryen.’

By now the numbness has settled fully in every inch her body, what was another painful truth in the ocean of grief drowning out her lungs? What would this piece of knowledge mean to her at this point? Her father was dead, and so was her mother, and so was Jon.

She doesn't care.

(All these years he was never a bastard, all the cruelty he endured could have been avoided. If he only knew he would not have gone to the wall, he would be alive right now. _Why?_ Why _? Why?_ Why _? Why? Why?_ Why…?)

She doesn’t care at all.

To her he will always be her favorite brother, Jon Snow.

Swallowing another sob and wiping her tears, Arya makes her way back to the harbor. Bypassing the other apprentices and walking straight to where she left her face and then to where she hid her Needle all these years ago.

She has a list to finish.

 _Valar Morghulis._ And so they will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So tell me something: would you prefer to see an edge-lord-boi-Dark!Jon or normal-good-boi-Jon if he's ever shown again in this story? I'm thinking about where to take chapter three next and your input could help me decide. This isn't me making any promises but you guys inspire me all the time! So please tell me what you think =D
> 
> Also Fun Fact: Long faces, defined cheekbones, sharp features, pale skin and stony faces were often associated with aristocracy irl. These features were considered striking, refined and noticeable but inoffensive.

**Author's Note:**

> Please excuse any mistakes as English isn't my native language. As always, please feel free to point them and I'll get on it!
> 
> Also shoutout to @ladybee for prompting this (or kinda prompting this before I semi-butchered her prompt, love you girl <3) and for all her contributions to the Jonrya fanfic community.


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